


On My Own

by HufflesPuffles



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drugs, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealous Sherlock, John Being an Idiot, John being a drunken arse, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Sherlock Holmes, Putting up shelves, Rosie Watson being adoreable, Scars, Sherlock being Emo... on the inside... just a little..., Slow Burn, Small Molly POV, Smoking, Why won't you love him John?!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10174274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflesPuffles/pseuds/HufflesPuffles
Summary: Sherlock has just returned after the fall and can't wait to see John, but John has changed, he's moved on. How will Sherlock cope, how can he, when he loves John so deeply? Why can't John see what's right in front of him? Or has he?





	1. Not Dead But Not Feeling Quite Alive, Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this chapter practically forced itself out of me. This entire thing wouldn't have been possible without me having found this song Dancing On My Own by Calum Scott which can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q31tGyBJhRY I highly recommend you listen to it so you can know where I'm coming from with this. I hope you enjoy it, it is not beta-ed or Brit pic-ed but if anyone would like to offer just drop a comment.

Sherlock stared at his old friend, and secret love, a smile coming to his face as he came up with a plan. He had to make him laugh. John would forgive him if he made him laugh, that mustache though, really had to go. It was hideous. He puzzled for another second taking in his surroundings. Before setting off into motion. 

Tie? Check. Glasses? Check. Menu? Check. Eyeliner for fake mustache? Check. John? Double check. French accent? Check. He made his way to his friends table. John looked about as nervous as Sherlock felt. Quickly coming to John’s side and trying his best to give his friend the shock of a lifetime. Sherlock felt sorely disappointed when John didn’t even look up at him. 

“Surprise me.” John ended up saying about the champagne and frustrated Sherlock rolled his grey/blue eyes stalking off with the menu.

“I’m certainly endeavouring to, sir.” Wandering off to find the wine cellar, or chest or wherever this place kept their champagne, Sherlock formulated a way to make sure he got John's attention. 

 

\------

 

Later that evening after Sherlock had been attacked by John for what he deduced to be the last time, as he was getting a taxi, and Sherlock was nursing a bleeding nose. He sighed and looked to John’s companion out of the side of his eye, leaning his head back.

“I said I’m sorry. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” Mary shook her head at him while looking back briefly at John.

“You don’t know anything about human nature, do you?” Lowering his head and removing his fingers from the bridge of his nose he starts to look at her full on.

“Mmm, nature? No. Human? ... No.” Mary turned back to John and then looked back at Sherlock.

“I’ll talk him round.” Sherlock was shocked. 

“You will?” He asked hoping he didn’t sound at all desperate.

“Oh yeah.” She replied laughter in her voice. He took in Mary Morstan for the first time.  Clever, romantic, short-sighted, size 12, cat-lover, disillusioned Lib Dem-voter, part-time nurse, only child, reads the Guardian, has a secret tattoo, an appendix scar, bakes her own bread, a linguist, and... a liar? The warm confident smile she was giving him though, that  _ reeked _ of sentiment, and for someone she barely even knew? Someone who had interrupted her engagement to announce his return from the dead. Someone John no longer looked on fondly, but with near venom seeping from his eyes, voice, fists, okay his entire body. Sherlock felt more broken than he had in Serbia, and desperately wanted a fix. But Mary was going to make John see reason, or was she?

“Mary.” John called her name and it was as if he had attacked Sherlock again. A thousand times in quick succession. He watched them get into the taxi and go off to wherever they lived now. Staring for what seemed like an age Sherlock finally shook himself from it. John wasn’t returning tonight. This was not going to be fixed so simply. 

He took in London all around him. The sights, smells, and sounds as he headed to his old home making a stop to see Molly and Lestrade before going to see Mrs. Hudson. Hopefully all of his things wouldn’t be in storage somewhere he really did love his flat and it wouldn’t do to have someone else living there. He really had rather hoped that John would go on living there but seeing John so angry… so lost. It’s no wonder he didn’t want to stay. 

Sherlock dug his key out of his pocket upon arriving at 221B, thankful that Mycroft hadn’t thrown it out or returned it to the landlady. He opened the front door and saw light peaking through Mrs. Hudson’s door through the plate glass of the inner door. He opened the door slowly and smiled at the old woman. Who began screaming hysterically. 

“Really? Must you do that Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock asked before being pulled into the woman's arms to have the life squeezed out of him.

 

\-----

 

The next night after having spent a frustrating day with Molly Hooper as his assistant and flirting with her throughout the day, because why not? Then finding that she’s engaged, damn it, and can’t continue being his replacement for John. John, who Sherlock had been fighting with in his head all day. An imaginary rowe added to his problems, but he went to the fish shop on Marylebone Road after Molly had left. He flirted with the owner who did say something about having more shelves to put up. Sherlock had winked at him taken his extra portions of fish and chips and wandered back to Baker Street.

Standing in the living room of 221B eating his fish and chips going over the day's cases, and the offer from the owner of the fish shop, he was surprised when he heard Mary’s voice on the stairs. She sounded distraught. John.

“Mary? What’s wrong?”  _ And where’s John you insufferable woman, why haven’t you fixed things like you said? _ Mary continued up the stairs and when she made it to the landing she ripped her mobile out of her pocket and thrust it at Sherlock.

“ Someone sent me this. At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it’s not. It’s a skip-code.” Sherlock looked from the phone to Mary then quickly back he could worry about that later.

SAVE SOULS NOW!

JOHN OR JAMES WATSON?

“First word, then every third. Save ... John ... Watson.” Sherlock could feel the adrenaline begin to pump through his system. John was in danger.

Saint or Sinner?

James or John?

The more is Less?

Sherlock didn’t care much for calming Mary or the conversation that continued to flow as his body went on auto-pilot and his mind took over everything important. John. Getting to John was the most important thing. He didn’t remember the continuing messages on Mary’s phone as they raced toward Saint James The Less on a commandeered motorcycle. His mind screamed for John. He had to find and protect him. 

“What a shame Mr Holmes. John is quite a Guy! What does it mean?” Mary asked after reading him the latest message. Turning his head to the side he see’s a bonfire beginning to catch, quickly.

“Oh my God.” Sherlock careens the motorcycle through the crowd, shout’s at Mary to jump off as he drops the bike and rushes through the crowd pushing people shouting at them to move. 

“John!” They both begin to cry out as Sherlock begins throwing wood off to the side crouching down as close as he can to see where his friend is.

“Help!” They hear John cry weakly and Sherlock begins tearing apart the bonfire like a madman, making a path into the flames. Finally able to reach him Sherlock grasps John and pulls him out getting him to relative safety before rolling him onto his back and staring into the dazed face of the man he loves.

“John? John!” He cried out patting the blonde man's face. He could hear Mary’s muffled cries over his shoulder. She too was calling John’s name. “Hey, John.” Sherlock said softly trying to get his friend to focus on him but John’s eyes couldn’t focus. He passed out. Sherlock stood and took his mobile out of his pocket and called for an ambulance. Mary knelt down and brushed Johns hair back, took his pulse and opened his eyelids one at a time.

Sherlock felt like he was holding his breath until the ambulance arrived and he saw Mary place a soft kiss on John’s lips and forehead while the emergency crew got him situated in the back. Mary walked over to Sherlock and pulled him to her. There was an ever sinking pit in Sherlock’s stomach.

“Thank you, for helping me get John tonight. I don’t know what I would have done.” She said softly and patted his back before going to sit in the back of the ambulance with John. “I’ll make sure he remembers it was you that saved him!” She shouted as the doors closed.

Sherlock drew his belstaff around him tight and managed to make his way to the fish shop. He tapped on the glass door for a few moments before the owner came round and unlocked the shop door. 

“Well it seems you decided that you needed to put up some shelves tonight Sherly.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at the man and his awful nickname. He just wanted to feel wanted. That’s all this was.

“Same as before I will not do more than that.” The dark skinned man put his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders, and pulled him close the faded and worn fabric of his shirt catching on one of Sherlock’s buttons and ripping a little. The man grinned white teeth and brown glittering eyes.

“Of Course you won’t. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” The man slowly brought his mouth to the detective’s and all he could taste was grease. It disgusted him but he had expected it from him. They made their way to the office kissing off and on, none of it filled with the passion and longing Sherlock so craved.

_ “Because it’s not me.” _ Said Sherlock’s inner John, which only made him angry as he dropped to his knees in the fish shop owners office.

_ “Why are you doing this Sherlock? Trying to prove something, or just showing off? Jealous?”  _ Imaginary John was pushing all of Sherlock’s buttons today. Usually he was so pleasant. 

“Ready Sherly?” The shop owner asked taking his cock from his trousers and sliding the hardened tip along Sherlock’s jaw. The detective nodded and opened his mouth allowing the man to fuck his face as roughly as he so desired. The man’s hands threaded through Sherlock’s curls and he only wished it were John. But John had her… He didn’t need Sherlock like this… 

Sherlock wasn’t even paying attention to the cock in his mouth the man shouting expletives and endearments for the way Sherlock was allowing him to use his lovely mouth. All thoughts were to John and Mary. He felt nothing for the fish shop owner, it was meant to be a distraction, but it wasn’t helping. All thoughts focused in on the soon to be happy couple. He knew they would get married, and any hope of a relationship with John was now forever lost. The man came in Sherlock’s throat and the detective swallowed and allowed himself to be pushed away and thrown out of the shop with promises of triple portions whenever he wanted them.

 

\-----

 

Upon his return to 221B Sherlock threw off his coat and scarf and plopped onto the couch his fingers steepled under his chin. He delved into his mind palace moving past the gigantic room that housed all that is John. His jumpers, the smile on his face when Sherlock does something good, the look of disapproval when he does something a bit not good, his morning routine, how he takes his tea, and just everything.

He moved down the stairs to the lowest part. He needed to see  _ him _ . Sherlock could hear him before he ever saw him. Laughing like a madman, but this is the only cage that could ever truly hold Jim Moriarty, and only in death. He tapped on the door politely. 

“Oh my, has my dear Mr Holmes come to play?” Came the response on the other side of the door. 

“I need your advice…” Jim cackled and Sherlock felt him press himself hard against the door.

“Come now, Sherlock after everything we’ve been through this is how you greet me?  **In a cell!** ” He shouted the last bit trying to unnerve him.

“It’s about John…”

“Oh the good Doctor. Your pet gone and left you now Sherlock? Too bad, thought he was a loyal one, not as loyal as my Seb it seems but loyal. That’s what happens when you  _ die _ , Sherlock. People move on and they forget. I would have you lose Watson any which way but this, this is  _ perfection _ . It’s going to take everything in you to be there for him now. Too bad there’s no going back to the rooftop hmmm?” Jim cackled again after his manic little speech and Sherlock felt himself slide down to the floor.

He hadn’t thought of that. Moriarty would have done anything to cause him any sort of emotional turmoil which is why he threatened John’s life in the first place. He had probably known that this would happen that Sherlock would throw himself into destroying his web and manage to have lost John in the process. So clever only to be so very dead. 

“Guess I’m on my own now, then…” Sherlock stood and walked away from the padded holding cell that contained Moriarty, and decided to visit the room of John after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It's somewhat of a recap of the events in The Empty Hearse but with my own twists.  
> I really hope I did Sherlock justice my wife insists that I did but you know nerves and all that. See you next time!  
> [Kudos <3]  
> &  
> [Comments]  
> are very much appreciated!


	2. Into The Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! Thank you all so much for reading and for the Kudos! I'm so glad you like it! This chapter takes place in and after the events of the Sign of Three. There is a slight divergence in POV from Sherlock to Molly at one point but it's quick and important, so don't be mad! I, once again, hope you enjoy it, it is not beta-ed or Brit pic-ed but if anyone would like to offer just drop a comment.

Sherlock couldn’t decide if he was happy with the waltz or not. Is this what friends normally gave at weddings or should he have gone with a nice set of china, or something? He stopped playing and went back to his recording and began waltzing around the living room. He was used to this, dancing without a partner. It was however very interesting when John had asked for lessons. He thought he had jumped for joy when apparently his eye had lightly twitched making John think he was about to have a fit, or something. 

Perhaps the waltz was better than fancy china. It was something they could keep and make them think of him on their wedding day whenever they wanted to listen to it. Seeing as he is best man as well though he’ll be in many of the pictures, and if his speech doesn’t go belly up then that should be a nice memory for them too. John. Sherlock breathed deeply and put the man out of his head. He needed none of that right now. Focus. Sadly that’s when Mrs. Hudson decided to wander in. Glancing over at her as he turned with his imaginary partner he briefly wondered why she had tea.

“Shut up, Mrs. Hudson.” He said icily while continuing to dance.

“I haven’t said a word.” She said a bit of a laugh in her voice. Sherlock sighed exasperated. Why did everyone find the things he did hilarious?

“You’re formulating a question. It’s physically painful watching you thinking.” He stopped dancing his full attention now on the pointless conversation with his landlady before he made a last minute notation to the sheet music. There that should be perfect for John,  _ and Mary _ . At least John was involving him in his wedding. After that thing with the bomb Sherlock thought John might never speak with him again let alone want him to be his best man, but best not to get into that now.

After shooing Mrs. Hudson out of the flat, hopefully to return with some chocolate biscuits, he set off down the hall to his bedroom. He took off his dressing gown on his way and as he pushed through the door tossed it on his bed.

“Right, then.” He said staring at the suit hanging on his wardrobe door. “Into battle.” After all today was the day. The day John would tie himself to Mary for the rest of his life, or until either of them decided they wanted a divorce. That last thought tended to make him a tad gleeful but he didn’t think about it often. Sherlock yanked his shirt over his head and afterwards ruffled his curls so he wouldn’t look such a mess. Though he would most likely be spending the next thirty minutes trying to make sure he looked as perfect as possible for John. 

Oh how he wanted to just crawl into bed and pretend that nothing at all of import was happening today. He had to be there, though. He had promised. He had also helped plan the damned event, while seething or moping in a corner of his mind palace every spare second. He removed his pajama bottoms and methodically began to get dressed in his newly aquired battle armor. This, after all, was just another costume, another disguise, and something he would relish getting to chuck into the bin later.

 

\-----

 

The wedding was over, and Mary was  _ pregnant _ . The mere thought made the pit in Sherlock’s stomach grow ever deeper. He had solved an attempted murder, three cases, at his best friends wedding, all but told the entire room that he was in love with him, flirted with a bridesmaid, and watched from the corner with his violin as John and Mary danced and kissed. It was heart wrenching. Mycroft wouldn’t even come, which was expected but still a disappointment to Sherlock. He had quickly made it out of the room when it was made horribly clear that he would again have to dance alone. Not now and not here.

He had pulled his coat around him grabbed his violin and left. He didn’t even say goodbye, knowing that John would be leaving on his honeymoon after the party. He took his mobile out of his pocket and texted his old dealer. He just couldn’t be inside his head ever so loud and full of accusations and deductions. He needed things to slow down, to calm. He needed to be numb, so numb that he wouldn’t even think about John.

He had the taxi stop at a shop on his way to his dealers flat and he bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Immediately lighting up as soon as he was out of the shop He waved the taxi on and began to walk.. He breathed in deeply and exhaled ever so slowly. There that’s better. His mobile made a moaning sound which made the pit in his stomach ever worsen.

**I’m famished, let’s get dinner?**

He rolled his eyes and shoved his mobile back in his pocket. There was a time when he could have had something with Irene. She wanted it, he knew it wouldn’t have been anything like she expected, due to his feelings for John, but John had been dating so many women during that case. Sherlock had been so utterly jealous and The Woman was anything but boring. It wouldn’t have been anything that lasted but it would have been a welcome distraction. Even her random though predictable texts were causing him nothing but stress and pain, because it all came back to John. She no longer could distract him except in his mind palace where her physical form was still, interesting to say the very least. He shook himself from that. No, Sherlock was on his own now. Even Janine had turned him down tonight, not that he really wanted her, or even wanted to stay at the reception. He just felt so... unwanted. Staring up at the decrepit building Sherlock flicked away his cigarette and pulled his coat tighter against him.

He walked unceremoniously into his dealers building and then up to his flat not even bothering to knock, or take in how run down the place had become. He was on a mission and would not be deterred.

“There you are, mate, was wonderin when you’d turn up.” The man held out his hand but Sherlock declined to shake it. He tossed a wad of pound notes onto the nearest table then stuffed his hands back in his pockets.

“What have you got for me?” The man took the cash and began counting it after running it under his nose. His eyes were bloodshot, couldn’t even tell their color, had a two day scruff on his cheeks, a new scar over his right eyebrow (knife fight over product), and smelled faintly of urine and mud. So he wasn’t getting much business anymore and was living rough. He’d take whatever Sherlock would offer scamper off to pay his bosses and maybe get something new.

“Well got this in about a month ago. Not many people have been interested because it’s such a high price, but since you always pay extra I’ll toss you in a freebie.” He put a vial of clear fluid on the table and a smaller vial of a blue. “Don’t mix ‘em. Very potent stuff this.” He pointed to the small blue liquid, before placing a box of clean hypodermic needles on the table next to them. Sherlock reached out for the vials but his hand was swatted gently away.

“Will you be back or is this just a slip? I need to know, for my own piece of mind.”  _ And wallet.  _ Sherlock glared at him and picked up the vials, ignoring the needles, and placing them in his pocket.

“You’ll know, when I do.” He muttered and stalked out of the room and the building his mind already working on the quickest route to Bart’s, and the easiest way to avoid having Molly find out.

Making his way through Bart’s to Molly’s lab Sherlock avoided each camera and every single person on the nightshift. He loved the clean sterile smell of the place, he wanted to cover himself in it and know he would forever be clean. He peaked through the small viewing window and noted there was no one about so he stepped in made his way to the needles and stashed a box from the back in his coat pocket so no one would be the wiser. He then made his way back to Baker Street inhaling yet another cigarette. 

 

\-----two days later----

 

Molly was confused. She was sure that she had ordered twenty-five cases of needles for her lab, why was a box missing? She went through her log books and sure enough there it was twenty-five in her own neat yet cramped handwriting. Then something struck her like a bolt of lightning. No one else had noticed that Sherlock was leaving the wedding except her, and he had looked so thoroughly depressed. Her hand flew to her mouth before she ran to the security office to go over the CCTV footage the night of the wedding.

There he was in her lab all perfect even in black and white, stealing a box of hypodermic needles from the back of her supply chest. She felt her stomach drop. She had almost fully accepted that Sherlock would never love her, that he was far more interested in John anyway to be anything more than a friend to her, but now John was married. Sherlock had even planned it, created a waltz, and tried to be pleasant. All for John, so he could have a happy life. She could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks as she made her way back to her lab. She fished her mobile out of her pocket and dialed Lestrade. 

“Greg…” She croaked out, her voice thick with emotion.

“Molly what is it? We’re kind of busy over here.” The Detective Inspector certainly did sound out of breath but she thought it was for another reason entirely, as he had taken a week off.

“Greg,” She tried again sounding less forced. “It’s… It’s Sherlock. He stole a box of needles from my lab the night John got married… I think he’s using again.” There was silence on the line before she heard two different male voices swearing and Greg’s heavy breathing at the receiver end again.

“I’ll head over to Baker Street. Think I need backup, or to do a drugs bust?” Molly shook her head even though he couldn’t see her.

“No. I think he’s heartbroken and it’s the only way he knows how to numb the pain…I think he needs a friend. Maybe try and get him out of the flat? Oh and if you can manage it, don’t tell Mycroft, you know that’ll only make things worse.” Greg sighed into the phone and she knew that Mycroft was already aware.

“I don’t think there will be any keeping it from him.” She rolled her eyes and wiped away her tears.

“Of course not, silly me. Now get your clothes on and go help Sherlock.” Molly hung up and sat staring at her sample of spinal fluid from poor old Henry Jenks, before deciding that it was best to just get back to work.

 

\-----another day passes-----

 

Sherlock was lying on the couch happily out of his mind, when he heard the door to 221B come crashing open. He felt his eyes open and flutter slowly while he took in the two, wait no, three people who had entered his living room. Oh my was he ever in trouble. He’d forgot to bin the needle this morning he was so out of it. Wait was it still morning, or was it afternoon? This blue drug, Sherlock found he quite enjoyed it and was going to have to get it’s name at some point. 

“Why Hudders, you’ve brought my some guests today! Have we a case, Lestrade? If so I shall have to ask you to leave brother dear.” Sherlock said doing his utmost not to slur his words as he slowly sat up. His head was spinning a little, when was the last time he had eaten. Oh dear not good, Mycroft will not be happy, but when is Mycroft ever happy?

"We had to nearly break down the bloody door, Sherlock! We've been trying to get to you for the past two days!" Lestrade nearly shouted but when the elder Holmes brother held up his hand he shut his mouth and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Brother mine,” Mycroft said gently leaning down and picking up the used needle and removing the already loosened makeshift tourniquet off of Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock smiled at him and brought a small piece of paper out of his trouser pocket placing it in what he thought was Mycroft's hand but what was really just open air. “What have you done?” He asked softly as he picked the paper up off the floor and read his eyebrows knitting together. “You took something without knowing what it was?” He asked angrily. Sherlock smiled and put his feet on the coffee table.

“It was a freeeeebie whyever not?” Sherlock quipped as Mrs. Hudson went about trying to straighten up and Lestrade stood there his face growing red.

“You know why not.” Mycroft sniped at him and Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed a cigarette and his lighter out from under the couch cushion. 

“Nothing much matters right now, I can’t, honestly I can’t, feel a damned thing. It’s better than whatever Victor and I used to do together.” Sherlock glanced at the balloon that was being pulled out of one of John’s old jumpers he’d nicked before the fall. “Now Mrs. Hudson, you leave John alone this instant! He’s reading the paper can’t you see?” Sherlock chided as he motioned at the folded paper at the hem of balloon John’s jumper. Everyone in the room looked at him as if he were out of his mind. Maybe he was but he sorely missed John despite the drugs. Nothing helped except balloon John. Balloon John was a laugh riot. Sherlock’s mobile buzzed in his pocket and he jumped slightly.

“Mmm buzzing!” he said ripping it out of his pocket and pressing the button to answer. “What? Oh yes, of course I’m available. Come by when you’re able I shall see what I can do for you.” He turned off the call and dropped his phone on the cushion making to stand. “The game is on! I must prepare for the arrival of my client!” He shuffled off into his bedroom while the three other adults watched him shaking their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww Sherlock... That is how I feel and I wrote the blasted thing. Anywho I hope you had as much fun as I did and will meet me back here for chapter three! Toodles!  
> [Kudos <3]  
> &  
> [Comments]  
> are very much appreciated!


	3. For John Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Thank you so much for reading, for the Kudos, the bookmarks, and the comments! You guys are the best and I'm so glad you're enjoying it! This chapter takes place in His Last Vow and was a blast to write. I changed up a few small details but I think it's worth it and I did my best to keep to the original dialogue from the scenes from the show. And, once again, I hope you enjoy it, it is not beta-ed or Brit pic-ed but if anyone would like to offer just drop a comment.

Sherlock laid on the filthy mattress, the drugs coursing through his veins, and began to think about Janine. Janine, she was… Interesting. She was constantly wanting to stay over at the flat. She wanted to sit in John’s chair.  _ No one _ sat in John’s chair besides John. Sherlock had had it placed in storage at least until the case wrapped up, or until he broke it to Janine that it was all an elaborate manipulation on his part. On the upside he now had unrestricted access to the kitchen and John’s chair was safe from a woman who, for some reason, declined to wear underwear.

On the downside since the chair had been removed Janine had taken to sitting on or straddling his lap which was a bit of a problem. She had also taken to wearing his shirts and his dressing gown on occasion, why was she insisting on wearing his things? She was attractive in that way that most women are, but he couldn’t help the fact that she couldn’t, well, get a  _ rise _ out of him. He often let her sleep over while he went out at night to get high, for a case. It was legitimate. He had to find his way into the papers, had to prove that he was a junkie and therefore vulnerable. Magnussen would only print the story if Sherlock were to really sell it, and Janine would have the inside scoop by being the junkies girlfriend. 

Thankfully she had yet to actually ask him for sex. All she did was sleep in his bed, hop in the shower or the bath with him, help him shave, make him tea, and try to snog him to death. Her tongue in his mouth was about as boring as the Fish Shop owner’s cock. When she first noticed the scars on his back Sherlock thought she would run away but she hadn’t. She had stood, wrapped herself around him, and whispered in his ear that he was “Still bloody gorgeous.” Would John react that way about his scars? Sherlock didn’t think so, but John Watson was often very surprising.

 

\------

 

Sherlock’s head was spinning when he heard John’s voice nearby. Why was John here in this place? Sherlock hadn’t told anyone about this case, not even Janine, and if John knew to look for him in this den then why hadn’t he been here sooner? No John wasn’t here for him. His heart ached as he realised that he was there for the delinquent neighbor boy. Of course, new life, new wife, new priorities. It had been over a month since they had seen each other let alone spoken. Mary texted him sometimes,  _ bloody Mary! _ Not John, he was much too stubborn to say he wanted to come back to the life of chasing criminals instead of dull Doctor and husband things. Still he just couldn’t quite help himself. He wanted to make John see him, wanted to make him… Furious. So he turned towards the two pulling down his hood and smiled groggily squinching his eyes at John.

“Ah, Hello, John. Didn’t expect to see you here. Did you come for me too?” John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock put a brief lid on his anger and made sure the kid could stand up and get himself outside before turning back to Sherlock.

“Just what in the hell are you doing here? And don’t lie to me, Sherlock.” John said his anger boiling over, his left hand squeezing into and out of a fist repeatedly. A small ripple of pleasure sat in the detectives belly when John said his name like that.

“I’m here on a case.” He said simply. That was all it took to get John further riled up he jerked the detective up by his shirt and tossed him towards the stairs. Sherlock felt a jolt of adrenaline rush through him but the drugs were messing with his mood more than just a little. He huffed, brushed some dirt off of himself, and stomped down the stairs. 

“I’m not lying you idiot!” John rushed down after him and pushed him against a wall his breath flying from his chest for a moment and he smiled.

“Well someone's missed the thrill of the game!” He turned and smiled at an angry John and before he could push him again he made for a different exit. John stomping after him.

“Why on earth would I miss this?! Just what have you done to yourself Sherlock?! You don’t even text me anymore, won’t come round to see the new place?! Atleast tell me you’ve been eating?!” John questioned him and Sherlock angrily barreled through a board which had been nailed across this particular exit. This was a good dosage, he’d have to remember this for the next time.

“For God’s sakes, John! I’m on a case!” He shouted angrily going down the fire escape. John knew he didn’t eat on cases.

“A month – that’s all it took.  _ One. _ ” John shouted back at him.  _ Oh, no one's told you about after the wedding have they, John? I don’t suppose they would…  _ Halfway down now, Sherlock vaults over the side of the fire escape and onto a wall beside it not bothering to look back and see if John’s following or not.

“I told you, I’m working.” He then jumps down on top of a wheelie bin beside the wall then down to another one laying on its side before making it to the ground.

“Sherlock Holmes in a drug den! How’s  _ that _ gonna look?” John snipes at him and Sherlock rolls his eyes watching Mary pull the car round as John tries to hold himself in check beside him. Of course he brought Mary. Can’t they do anything separately?

“I’m undercover.” He said running a hand through his hair.

“No you’re not!” John shouted at him. Sherlock flailed his arms about madly as Mary pulled up to them.

“Well, I’m not  _ now _ !” It should be quite obvious that this entire thing had ruined his cover and despite John being annoying Sherlock was entirely happy to see him. Mary forced them both into the car and after a small snit with one of the other junkies who also got in, John informed them they would be going to Bart’s which only exasperated Sherlock more. Inside he was gleeful that he was at least getting time with John again.

 

\-----

 

Janine had gotten in the bath with him again. So awkward, but he played it up for her sake since John was within hearing distance. He made her giggle and moan a little while they splashed around getting clean. He loathed every second of it. She made his skin crawl. He should have thought to lock the door. He managed to leave her in the bath all sudsy whilst he went into his bedroom and retrieved his armor. He had to look polished but not too polished, white shirt black trousers, black jacket, and slightly damp curls. Perfect. He walked into the living room looking at the irritating look on John’s as he sat on the coffee table.

“So – it’s just a guess but you’ve probably got some questions.”

“Yyyyeah, one or two, pretty much.”

“Naturally.” he made a motion for John to continue talking then looked toward the kitchen. Janine had brought her clothes in the bathroom with her so she was no strutting down the hall to his bedroom. He smiled, more of the charade and sat down.

“You have a  _ girlfriend _ ?” John said in disbelief. Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes as he looked from his bedroom door, hoping she wasn’t messing up his sock index again, to John.

“Yes, I have.” John grinned at him and the deep pit in Sherlock’s stomach grew ever deeper. He wondered if it would consume him, as he looked back at his bedroom itching to know what she was doing in there and then back to John schooling his expression to more serious as he realised time was running short.

“Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark, it’s the only way I can describe him. Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John, stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes... That’s what he is. I’ve dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen.”

“Yes, you have.” Sherlock looked at him confused for a moment. What was John going on about?

“Sorry, what?”

“You have a girlfriend.” Was it really that difficult of a thing for him to swallow? Sherlock Holmes in a relationship, how funny! Let’s poke the bear!

“What? Yes! Yes, I’m going out with Janine. I thought that was  _ fairly _ obvious.” He motioned towards the bedroom at her very presence.

“Yes. Well ... yes.” John cleared his throat before continuing. What was going on with him? “But I mean you, you, you ... are in a relationship?” Sherlock blinked at him trying to piece together the other man’s confusion. Had he acted this confused when John asked Mary to marry him? He hadn’t thought so.

“Yes, I am.” He said almost slowly.

“You and Janine?”  _ Get to the point John! _

“Mmm, yes. Me and Janine.”

“Care to elaborate?” Sherlock drew in a breath while trying to keep himself from exploding. What did it bloody matter? None of it did! Janine was only a part of this case and his life because of her access to Magnussen. Why couldn’t John see what he was doing to him? His chest ached and Sherlock was sure he was about to fall apart when he puffed out his cheeks and then blew out the air somewhat exasperatedly.

“Well, we’re in a good place. It’s, um…”  He paused looking down trying to think and then looked to John. Always John. “... very affirming.” He smiled at the man he loved while John narrowed his eyes slightly and pointed his finger at him.

“You got that from a book.”

“ _ Everyone _ got that from a book.” Sherlock said with an angry sigh and then smiled as Janine walked in.

“Okay, you two bad boys, behave yourselves.” He smiled happily up at her as she sat on the arm of his chair. He put his arms around her to keep her where she was but of course she slid back onto his lap. He really wanted to retreat into his mind palace or throw a tantrum, but he had to keep in mind that this was all for a case. It was all important. She turned and leaned her face close to his making his skin begin to crawl yet again. “And you, Sherl, you’re gonna have to tell me where you were last night.” 

“Working.” He replied once again fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He could feel John staring and he wished he would stop. He didn’t want him to witness this.

“ _ Working. _ Of course. I’m the only one who really knows what you’re like, remember?” She said and ran her fingers through his wet curls and down his scarred back slightly.

“Don’t you go letting on.” He replied almost tenderly. He felt he was getting a bit too good at this. He ran a finger down the tip of her nose and laid his hand on her arm while staring into her eyes. She wanted him he could see it plainly. He wondered briefly if she could tell his distaste for her proximity before she chose to open her mouth. He abhorred her voice.

“I might just, actually.” She replied just as tenderly before tearing her eyes away from Sherlock to look at John. Sherlock followed her gaze. “I haven’t told Mary about this. I kind of wanted to surprise her.” Sherlock wanted to laugh.

“Yeah, you probably will.”  _ Understatement of the year. _

“But we should have you two over for dinner really soon!” She said excitedly and he found himself once again wanting to laugh so hard he cried. Instead he decided to agree with her. After all if things went according to plan there would be no need and Janine and the flat could be set back to rights again. “ _ My _ place, though – not the scuzz-dump!” She punched him lightly on the shoulder and they began to laugh at the same time.

“Great, yeah!  _ Dinner _ ! Yeah.” John sounded as if he were in another world. Janine stood and Sherlock patted her briefly on the rear making her swat his hand away. Every move was calculated.

“Oh, I’d better dash. It was brilliant to see you!” She said making her way toward the door. John stood as well. Always the gentleman.

“You too.” He said and Sherlock walked Janine to the door and opened it for her. It was the kind of thing John would do.

“Have a lovely day. Call me later.” He said to her softly. She turned and began to fiddle with the hem of his jacket.

“I might do. I  _ might _ call you, unless I meet someone prettier.” She teased and Sherlock kissed her effectively trying to snog her silly. He needed her to stay happy. He could hear John’s startled ‘Oh!’ and the shuffling of his feet. Honestly what was going on with John? Janine pulled back smiling what he assumed was alluringly and kept her nose attached to his. 

“Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes.” She whispered, smiled broadly, gave him a peck and went off down the stairs. He smiled after her once she was out of sight his smile dropped from his face altogether. No more while she was gone. He mentally shook himself before walking back across the room and getting back to business.

 

\------

 

The meeting with Magnussen had went better than Sherlock had dared to dream. John had been put off by the urination into the fireplace but that could be sanitized and would be. As ever John hadn’t noticed the letters. Those letters were bloody Christmas! He had to get on with the rest of his scheme immediately, and that meant that he would need something. Something bright and sparkly that made girls weak at the knees. 

An engagement ring. How did one go about purchasing a proper engagement ring? (Despite not actually wanting to marry her he wanted Janine to believe every facet was real.) Sherlock didn’t really know so he stopped by Scotland Yard to get some advice from Lestrade before actually heading out to the shops. He couldn’t ask John about this. It was too weird. The man had his heart, and despite the fact he was crushing the life out of it, he had already witnessed him snog his make believe girlfriend and would be watching him propose to her later that evening he couldn’t put the ring on him as well. Though actually putting a ring on John would make Sherlock happy he just couldn’t imagine that, not today, too painful.

He walked into the Detective Inspectors office not even bothering to knock and sat down waiting for him to finish his phone call. He began looking through the papers on the man’s desk and already could spot three no four clerical errors and one major Anderson sized error. That would be fun to show to Lestrade. The older man hung up the phone took a sip of his coffee and then leaned back in his chair.

“What Sherlock?” What a welcome. He rolled his eyes. Clearly Mycroft had already talked to him.

“I need your help.” He said softly playing with the sleeve of his coat. Lestrade sat up straight and picked up his coffee cup.

“With?’ He watched as he began to sip his drink,

“Buying an engagement ring.” The Detective Inspector promptly choked and spit his drink all over his desk.  _ Well that had certainly been entertaining _ , Sherlock thought with a grin.

 

\------

 

He felt like his entire world was crumbling around him because he kept putting off analyzing Mary further and now it was too late. The liar deduction, the skip code, and remembering bits of information she shouldn’t be able to. Sherlock was dying and it was Mary,  _ bloody Mary, _ that had done it. He had trusted her with the most precious person in this world to him. Now he was paying for it, with his life. Forever on his own. No wait he built fail safes for this… Molly came around him smiling.

“It’s not like it is in the movies. There’s not a great big spurt of blood and you go flying backwards.” Sherlock did his best to listen to her atentively. He could feel the life draining out of him and it was hard not to panic. He entered his mind palace in the second in the wing that held Molly, and the morgue at Bart’s. Her face became horribly serious. “The impact isn’t spread over a wide area.” She walks over to a body covered in a sheet only a toe tag showing off of one bare toe. “It’s tightly focussed, so there’s little or no energy transfer.” She begins to reveal to Sherlock his own body under the sheet and the panic hits him fresh as he sees the bullet hole in his own chest. “You stay still… and the bullet pushes through. You’re almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus.” She slaps him across the face hard like she did earlier that day and he began to breathe deeply gulping air, his eyes blowing wide, as his head jerks to the side. He begins to focus in on Mary again outside of his mind palace.

“I said…  _ focus. _ ” Molly slapped him again hard and he’s reeling back in the morgue. He does his best to straighten himself as he stares bewildered down at his own body once more. Molly leans against the table that his dead self is lying on and stares at across at the Sherlock now currently dying.

“It’s all well and clever having a Mind Palace, but you’ve only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on, what’s going to kill you?” He stares down at his dead self once more and then looks back up at Molly.

“Blood loss.

“Exactly.” She replied staring at him intensly. Sherlock frowned at her. What was he supposed to do now? “So, it’s all about one thing now. Forwards, or backwards?” Sherlock braced himself as he began to sway. He needed to keep himself awake, and alive. He put himself back in the room with Mary and Magnussen and began to try and calculate which would be better. With the added help of Mind palace Anderson and Mycroft he made the call of falling on his back. Before he manages to hit his mind rebells and tosses him back into the morgue a warning alarm blaring through his head.

“What the hell is that? What’s happening?” He shouted his hands at his ears covering the noise. He falls against the morgue cabinets and a door opens a tray sliding out once again revealing his own dead body to him. He lowers his hands confusion mixed with horror etched upon his face. Molly suddenly apeared on the other side of the tray making him jump. 

“You’re going into shock. It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.” He stared at her frightened.

“What do I do?” Molly morphed seamlessly into Mycroft. Sherlock’s eyes were still blown wide but he lifted his head to meet his brothers cool gaze.

“Don’t go into shock, obviously.” He watched as Mycroft looked around doing his best to ignore the alarm. “Must be  _ something _ in this ridiculous memory palace of yours that can calm you down.  _ Find _ it.” He said the last words staring right into Sherlock’s eyes and he forced himself to think of something to calm him. He began running down the main stairs of his mind palace. “The East Wind is coming, Sherlock. It’s coming to  _ get _ you.” Sherlock stumbles down the stairs wishing he could run faster. He then found himself on a landing a door opening infront of him but not the door he was looking for. Mary stepped out wearing her wedding dress and aimed a pistol at him. John stood behind her staring off into space. She fired and Sherlock screamed and before he could fall he found himself racing through the corridor he was looking for pulling open a wooden door and finding himself faced with a beautiful Irish Setter panting and looking happy to see him.

“Hello, Redbeard. Here, boy. Come on!” He called out and leaned down patting the tops of his thighs smiling so very happily. “Come to me. It’s okay. It’s all right.” Redbeard began to run along towards him. “Come on! It’s me! It’s me, come on!” He smiled with delight as Redbeard gathered speed and began barking the closer he got to him. “Come on!  _ Good _ boy! Clever boy!” As the dog reached him he knelt down and started stroking his head and ears while Redbeard licked his face.

“Hello, Redbeard. They’re putting  _ me _ down too, now. It’s no fun, is it?” He fell back a little disoriented and weak trying to hold on. He needed to hold on.

“Redbeard…” He managed weakly before falling on his back. Molly appears a small distance from him, he can see her as he begins to convulse. He wished he hadn’t been wrong about Mary. That John could be happy and safe, with his wife and child. He clenches his teeth and listens to Molly.

“Without the shock, you’re going to feel the pain. There’s a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding.” Sherlock screams. “You  _ have _ to control the  _ pain _ .”

He begins running down the stairs again, knowing what he has to do. Who he has to talk to. Who he has to once again ask for advice. He reaches the bottom and runs through the door of Moriarty’s padded cell. Sherlock mentally closes and locks the door before colapsing against the wall beside it as he once again begins convulsing and crying out with the sharpness of the pain. He stares at Moriarty.

“ _ Control! _ Control! Control.” He repeats his voice quieting with every utterance of the word. Moriarty is filthy. He really should allow him to bathe more, perhapse the chain was a touch too much, and his breathing is a tad too loud. Sherlock grits his teeth and straightens up from the wall breathing heavy as well.

“You.” He took a few steps forward trying not to look as weak as he felt. “You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel  _ pain _ ?” Moriarty turned slowly toward him finally acknowledging his presence. Perhapse he thought Sherlock was merely a delusion?

“You  _ always _ feel it, Sherlock.” He turned toward Sherlock more pure rage etched across his features. Sherlock stared at him he was too weak to do much else. As the lights flickered due to Sherlocks weakened state Jim surged up and forward a noise similar to a roar escaping his throat. Sherlock pressed himself back against the wall and just before the mad man could crash into him the chain connected to the collar on his neck caught and prevented him from coming further.

“But you don’t have to fear it!” He called maiacally as Sherlock slumped over in agony. He found his way to the floor and writhed holding his arms against his chest.

“Pain. Heartbreak.  _ Loss. _ ” Jim muttered at him and Sherlock rolled onto his side. He closed his eyes tight as tears streamed down his face.

“ _ Death _ . It’s  _ all _ good.” Sherlock felt himself begin to convulse again at Jim’s whisper’s, groaning in utter agony. He couldn’t concentrate.

“It’s  _ all _ good.” Jim whispered close to his face. He could tell behind his eyelids that the lights were fading. He opened his eyes stared at the dimming blue light and wished he had time to tell John he loved him. He begins convulsing harder this time his eyes blown wide and Moriarty decided it would be a bloody good time to sing.

“It’s raining, it’s pouring. Sherlock is boring…” The convulsions slow down again and notices Jim near his head.  _ John… I need you... _

“I’m laughing, I’m crying…” Jim kneels beside Sherlock’s head as the convulsions stop besides small twitches. He stares upward blankly then slowly lets his eyes drift shut.

“Sherlock is dying.” He felt Moriarty’s lips on his forehead. They felt so warm compared to his skin. If he could have just a little of that warmth he might feel… something. He opened his eyes a crack to look at the man hovering near his face.

“Come on, Sherlock. Just  _ die _ , why can’t you?” He watched through his eyelashes as Jim laid down beside him.

“One little push, and off you pop.You’re gonna love being dead, Sherlock.” He said Sherlock let his close once again as Moriarty kissed his cheek.

“No one  _ ever _ bothers you. Mrs Hudson will cry, and Mummy and Daddy will cry…” He felt him kiss him on the nose before he heard the chain moving round and round. “And The Woman will cry, and John will cry buckets and buckets. It’s him that I worry about the most. That  _ wife _ !” Sherlock felt his stomach flop over like a dying fish.

“You’re letting him down, Sherlock. John Watson is definitely in danger.” Sherlock’s eyes flew open at that and he stares up trying to make sense of everything again. The lights began to flash and Sherlock convulsed again then sighed pianfully trying to get up. He grimaced with the effort and pain, but John. He had to survive for John. He slammed his fist into the floor of the cell as if he were prodding at his own heart, and forced himself up on to his elbow. Raising his other arm he punched the floor again with all the might within him.

“Oh, you’re not getting better, are you?” Jim said and Sherlock managed to bring himself to his feet stagger forward and slump against the wall.

“Was it something I said, huh?” Jim said smiling up at him and Sherlock glared breathing heavy. This was his last ditch effort and he knew it. Sherlock pushed himself off the wall and grunting with effort pushed open the door.

“ _ John _ !” He called out frantically starting up the stairs.

_ “SHERLOCK!”  _ He heard Moriarty scream for him as the door slammed and locked once again.

Sherlock slumps against the bannister momentarily and then slams his hand down on the bannister and begins hauling himself up to the room of John. It’s painful but Sherlock’s only thoughts are of John. He makes it to a landing and braces himself against a wall calling out for the man that he loves. Then once again slams his fist down on the bannister and continues up. He makes it to the room of John throws open the door and can feel his own heart beating as John smiles at him.

“You idiot why didn’t you come here in the first place?” John said and came forward holding his arms out to Sherlock and then he felt his conciousness rip him back to the present. His eyes fluttered open in the operating room.

“ _ Mary. _ ” He whispered.

 

\------

 

Sherlock stared down at the ground from the plane. He should have told John he loved him. It was no use now that he was trying to make things work with Mary and Sherlock was being sent off to his death. Sherlock had made Mycroft promise to look after John, and let no harm come to him in his absence. He no longer trusted Mary but he wasn’t going to ruin John’s marriage vows and the picture perfect life he had planned for himself. That’s why he killed Magnussen, not for Mary, for John and his daughter. They didn’t need to suffer due to Mary’s past. Mary should have known better and brought it to Sherlock in the first place.

He was going to miss so much. Should he even really try on this mission or just get it over with and let them kill him? He was going to die anyway, Mycroft said so. Sherlock sighed and patted the small supply of drugs in his pocket. He could atleast have a little fun. He made a list quickly for old time sake took his arm out of his sleeve wrapped a touraquit around his upper arm and slipped the needle into his vein. He quickly covered up and went back to staring out the window as he heard someone coming.

“Sir?” The man says and Sherlock turns to look at him and he hold’s out a phone to him. “It’s your brother.” Sherlock sighs takes the phone in his other hand and pinches it between his ear and shoulder as the man walks away. He slips the needle out and sighs before speaking to his brother.

“Mycroft?”

“Hello, little brother. How is the exile going?” Sherlock rolled his eyes and undid his touriquit.

“I’ve only been  _ gone _ four minutes.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’ve learned your lesson. As it turns out, you’re needed.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Make up your mind. Who needs me this time?” Sherlock shoved the needle into the tray infront of him as he railed at his brother.

“England…” He said and Sherlock saw the man come forward with tablet playing a recording of Moriarty saying ‘Did you miss me?’ over and over.

“It can’t be. He’s dead.” Sherlock said into the phone.

“If he survived you’re the only one who will be able to help us Sherlock.” Mycroft said and Sherlock hung up as he heard the mad man in his mind palace laughing ever so maniacally.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this out I have been swamped! Enjoy! Toodles!  
> [Kudos <3]  
> &  
> [Comments]  
> are very much appreciated!


	4. Mini Watson and The Illusion of Alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, you awesome people! Thank you all, again, so much for reading, for the Kudos, the bookmarks, and the comments! You guys are the best and I'm so glad you're enjoying it! This chapter takes place in the beginning of the Six Thatchers and one or two more will come from that episode. I changed up some stuff again but in the scenes from the show I tried to keep the dialogue as perfect as possible. Now, once again, I hope you enjoy it, it is not beta-ed or Brit pic-ed but if anyone would like to offer just drop a comment.

The drug addled dream that was the extremely cold case of “The Abominable Bride”, as John had named it, still haunted Sherlock’s dreams. That is, when he slept. Mycroft had managed to digitally alter the video recording of Magnussen’s murder, which meant Sherlock was free of blame and all charges. He also had a dead man to wait for, an ex-assassin to keep watch on, a tiny human thing to look  _ forward _ to, and John to pine after. He was completely booked, for all intents and purposes, that is.

Though as he was waiting for the move of a criminal mastermind he decided solving cases would be the best bet. So they all began to solve crimes together. It was the easiest way to keep an eye on Mary. As he was sure he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he put cameras in their quaint suburban home. John began once again giving the cases the most ridiculous names on his blog. Why did people even read John’s blog? Most of it was rubbish!

**The Duplicate Man**

How could Dennis Parkinson be in two places at

the same time? And murdered in one of them?

John had suspected twins the entire time! As did most of his readers! Rubbish! Why couldn’t people want to read his own case files where he diligently worked over every detail so people could begin to understand how he actually forms deductions, and perhaps gain some knowledge at the same time? Sherlock couldn’t fathom why people wanted to read John’s drivel. Although he constantly found himself reading it and storing away so that mind palace John could read it aloud to him later. 

Mary began to feel rather down one night so Sherlock and John had both suggested she rest and call them if she needed them. That was the jellyfish case. Boring. Soon though they discovered something not so very boring was going on back at John’s. 

“You can’t arrest a jellyfish!” John called after him exasperated flicking the power button on his mobile and shoving it back into his pocket. Sherlock stared at his own mobile as they went up the stairs.

“Well, you could try.” He said in an uninterested manner typing away as he stopped on the landing. He had been doing that a lot lately. Trying to pull away from John so that he could have the family life that he wanted. Sure cases were fun for now but the baby would arrive at anytime and once again Sherlock’s entire universe would be thrown for a loop.

“We  _ did _ try.” John sounded tired and frustrated as his mobile made a dinging alert noise. Sherlock heard him sigh as he rustled through his pockets again the screen lighting up his tired face. “Oh God.” Sherlock heard him mutter and looked over at him. Shoving his own mobile into his pocket.

“Mary?” He asked tightly but laced with concern.

“Fifty-nine missed calls.” John looked up at him panic in his eyes. The baby was disrupting his world earlier than expected.

“We’re in a lot of trouble.” Sherlock muttered grabbed John by the arm and ran back down the stairs while texting Mycroft for a loaner car. The car arrived and they sped off toward Mary. Sherlock couldn’t think about anything except the fact John was going to disappear again. He would need to act happy. Like at the wedding. He could disappear after the baby was safely delivered at Hospital and visitors  began to arrive. He hadn’t realized they had made it until John was putting Mary in the back and ordered Sherlock to get in the back with her.

“I’ll not have you driving with her in labor! With my luck I’ll be the only bloody survivor!” John jibed at him and Sherlock rolled his eyes slipping into the back next to Mary. They then began speeding off towards Hospital. John driving like an absolute loon, and he had been worried about Sherlock’s driving. He should get in a car with Mrs. Hudson sometime. Mary began to groan clutching at her belly and pulling her dress higher up her thighs the sight was nauseating.

“Ow! Oh my God. Oh my God!” She panted as she moved about the back seat pressing her hands against the roof of the car. Sherlock watched in distaste. He was certain Mycroft would have the vehicle set on fire.

“Relax. It’s got two syllables…” John started before Mary groaned, smiled, and cut him off.

“I’m a nurse, darling. I think I know what to do.” She said through grit teeth trying to get into yet another position.  _ Is she trying to do yoga? _

“Come on then, come on.” John urged her while taking a curve hard.

“Re…” Mary began and he heard John mimicking her as she slapped her hand across the front head rest as he breathed out the last syllable.

“No, it’s not working, just drive! Please, God, just drive! God, drive!” She began to scream and Sherlock feeling even more uncomfortable and worried about the child started typing out information about all of this in a text to Molly. Glancing between Mary and his mobile every few seconds.

“Sherlock.  _ Mary _ !” John growled out taking yet another hard turn. Sherlock rolled his eyes. What did he expect him to do! Deliver the baby while John was driving? No that would be disgusting. He cleared his throat and stared from his mobile to Mary again.

“That’s it, Mary. Re…” Sherlock began to purse his lips and breathe with her when she started to cut him off.

“Don’t you start.” She spit out at him as she began to kneel on the seat beside him.

“...lax.” He barely got it out before she slammed his head into the window and held it there with her hand.  _ Oh if you weren’t pregnant, Mary… _ He glowered inside of his head.

“John?” Mary shouted bracing her other hand against Sherlock’s head now. His skull was throbbing. Had she not done enough damage to him yet? “John, I think you have to pull over.” She removed her hands and started trying to sit.

“Mary, Mary…” John’s voice was panicked but somehow also calm. Sherlock rubbed along his skull and his jaw.

“ _ Pull Over _ !” She screamed and he looked over at her his eyes immediately drawn to the small head beginning to poke out of her nether-regions. He could feel his eyes blow wide, his jaw fall slack, and he scrambled for the door handle. He needed out!

“Oh my God.” He nearly shouted pulling on the handle. John pulled the car over as Mary let out yet another scream and Sherlock jumped out popping into the shop on the corner for a pack of cigarettes. He was not equipped for that, and Mycroft was definitely going to burn the the car.

 

\------

 

Sherlock found he rather enjoyed being Godfather. He was allowed to babysit, and Rosie was quickly becoming one of his most favorite people, even though she couldn’t properly communicate. He loved running experiments on her and she did frustrate him at times but he grew to love the tiny girl version of John Watson. She would coo when he held her, rarely screamed when she was with him, and was constantly fascinated by the things he said. Although she showed her fascination  and appreciation of his care and attention by smiling, drooling, and blowing saliva bubbles at him. 

John and Mary had dropped by to show off Rosie’s latest cute baby dress. Like sherlock would care and had fallen asleep on the couch. Luckily he had taken to keeping supplies of Rosie’s favorite snacks and buying copies of her favorite toys for when she was over. Today she was having difficulty keeping her rattle in her hand or she was experimenting with him. He had just given it back when she tossed it once again onto the floor. He sighed and turned toward her uncomfortable looking plastic seat resting on John’s chair where she was sucking on her fingers and eyeing him curiously.

“As ever, Watson, you see but do not observe. To you, the world remains an impenetrable mystery whereas, to me, it is an open book. Hard logic versus romantic whimsy. That is your choice. You fail to connect actions to their consequences. Now, for the last time,” he pauses bends down and picks up the rattle, “if you want to keep the rattle, do not  _ throw _ the rattle, hm?” He smiles jiggles the rattle in his hand before handing it to her. She then coo’s appreciatively and throws it in his face. He stares at her a disapproving look on his face before she moves her head in an odd fashion her nose slightly twitching and sneezes. He took a baby wipe out of the container on the mantle and wiped his face before picking up the rattle and placing it on the mantle next to the knife holding down the mail.

“Very well, Watson. As you do not seek to understand the rules of the game we shall move onto another one.” She turned her head slightly to the side her eyes wide as she once again began chewing on her fingers. “How do you feel about skulls?” She giggled at him, he grinned.

 

\------

 

Sherlock heard a knock on the door. It was rather loud. He stumbled from his bedroom to the front door to find John standing there reeking of alcohol, wobbling, and wet. Night out with Stamford, far too much to drink, won’t return home to Mary in this state, and it was either raining at the pub or someone had to hose John  down for some reason.

“John, this is a surprise.” Sherlock said stepping aside and letting John enter. “Does Mary know where you are and that you’re alright?” He could give a damn about Mary but if this was something random she would need to know where her husband was.

“Ta, yeah, yeah. Text her, I did… Said I wash gonna stay wit you tonight, yeah?” John stumbled on his words, nodded, yanked his coat off, and flung it toward the general direction of the coffee table before heading towards Sherlock’s room.

“John why are you going to my room?” Sherlock quickly went after him and tried to steer him toward the couch. John may have been drunk but he wasn’t that sloppy. The smaller man quickly had the upper hand on Sherlock and had the detective pinned against the wall. He watched as John ran his forehead over his chest. He felt his cheeks flush with color. “J-John, what are you doing?”

“Sherlock…” John whispered his name and placed a soft kiss against the flesh of his neck. Where was this coming from? Sherlock wanted to set John right, after all the man was married and had a daughter. He couldn’t do this. John being this close though, just felt, right.

“John?” He asked again, and John looked up at him his blue eyes clear as ever. Had he tricked Sherlock somehow? Was he not drunk?

“You’re beautiful…” John whispered and leaned up capturing Sherlock’s lips in a kiss. Sherlock didn’t know how to react. He had always wanted this, but if John was drunk, who’s to say he would remember any of it? If he did remember it how would that make him feel about Mary tomorrow? What if John didn’t want this as badly as Sherlock did? What if this was a one time thing? Did it matter? He felt John’s warm tongue slide over his bottom lip and he felt his knees turn to jelly.

“Sherlock let’s go to bed please… I want to be  _inside_  you…” John said in between wet passionate kisses. Sherlock felt John pulling him by the hand towards his bedroom his other hand groping his arse. He felt John shudder as his back hit Sherlock’s bedroom door and he ground his hips up to meet the detectives.

“Mmmm…” Sherlock groaned into John’s mouth at the feel of John’s erection against his own, the blonde taking the opportunity to slide his tongue in and taste Sherlock’s mouth. His head was filled with the fog of lust and he didn’t know if he could break through it now if he tried. He fumbled with the door knob the two almost tumbling over each other as the door opened at the pressure created by their bodies. John smiled and shoved Sherlock onto the bed and began taking off his jumper as he watched.

“John, why?” Sherlock asked as the doctor tossed his jumper to the side pounced on the detective and crawled up his body. He felt his cock twitch inside his pants.

“Why not?” John whispered in his ear licking his earlobe and lightly biting and sucking it. “I want you, you want me, we could easily be happy together.” Sherlock moaned as John ground his erection down into his once again. Sherlock ran his hands over the musculature of John's chest flicking at one of the nipples curiously which made a sound tumble forth from John that brought him back to his senses for a moment. 

“John…” He breathed out. “You’re, you’re married. You have a, a family…” Sherlock managed to get out as John leaned down and nibbled his collar bone. The blonde stopped and sat up glaring at him, his eyes dark.

“Why would you bring them up right now?” He spat out lightly grinding over Sherlock eliciting a moan from him.

“I don’t want you to do anything you will regret. You’re a good, decent, and honorable man, John Watson. I won’t do this if you’re going to hate me for it tomorrow.” John sighed rested his head against Sherlock’s chest and nuzzled his breast bone before pausing to listen to the beat of Sherlock's heart through his shirt.

“I’m sorry Sherlock… You’re right… Another time then, yeah?” Sherlock held back tears and nodded while running his fingers through John’s hair. After a moment John rolled off of him and started to peel back the sheets. “Let’s get some sleep then, yeah?” Sherlock stood took off his dressing gown and told himself he had done the right thing.

“Of course John. Would you like me to take the couch?” He asked rummaging through the side cabinet for a blanket. Not that he would be able to sleep tonight. He felt John’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“No, Sherlock.” John said simply. He allowed him to lead him to the bed curl up behind him and even allow himself to drift off when John tossed his arm around his torso. He had never felt more comfortable in his life.

When Sherlock woke John was gone. All traces that he had been there were gone besides the light smell of alcohol on the pillow next to him. He didn’t feel the need to hold back anymore. He curled up in the place John had slept and let the tears fall.  _ How could I have been so stupid? _ He asked himself over and over again. Why would John ever come back now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock... And John how could you?! Any way that's how I feel  
> I'm thinking about writing a companion piece to this from John's POV, what do you guys think? Seriously drop me a line!  
> I hope you all enjoy it and will join me again soon!   
> You guys rock!  
> Toodles!  
> [Kudos <3]  
> [Comments]  
> &  
> [Bookmarks]  
> are very much appreciated!


	5. Mini Watson and Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detectives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, you magnificent people! I know this is late, life has been crazy, I apologize. Thank you all, and I know this gets old but I'm extremely grateful, so much for reading, for the Kudos, the bookmarks, and the comments! You guys are the best and I'm so glad you're enjoying it! We are still in the Six Thatchers. It's a short one but I wanted to put a bit more focus on the relationship between Sherlock and Rosie. Now, once again, I hope you enjoy it, it is not beta-ed or Brit picked but if anyone would like to offer just drop a comment.

It was more than odd when John showed up the next day with Mary and Rosie. Sherlock wanted to stalk into his bedroom and slam the door, but Rosie had cooed and reached out for him so he had taken her gladly. It hurt. Holding John’s child with Mary, having John show up drunk and suddenly want him, having Mary in his flat at all, but it wasn’t mini Watson’s fault. She couldn’t be blamed for the ways in which her father treated him. Sherlock longed for a spark of recognition of last night in John’s eyes but they were bright, vacant, and happy watching him hold his small daughter.

“We think Rosie’s first word might be some variation of Sherlock.” Mary said laughing and sitting down on the couch none to gently. He tilted his head to the side and blinked at her then looked back at the tiny person in his arms.

“Whatever for?” He asked as Rosie reached out a saliva covered hand and grabbed onto one of his curls. 

“She only does this when we walk by here. She’ll squeal and start babbling nonsense and make like if we don’t bring her into 221 B she’ll bloody well take herself.” John said smiling broadly and flopping down in his chair. He hadn’t sat there with Mary with him here in a long time. Sherlock noted this discrepancy and sat in his own chair with mini Watson on his lap. 

“Perhaps it’s because I’m stimulating while the two of you are boring Mummy and Daddy.” Sherlock stated. John rolled his eyes and Mary giggled. Interesting. “Now Watson,” He started Rosie’s attention pulling directly to him, “What was so important that you had to see me today?” He could hear John take in a breath to answer but then he stopped when he noticed his daughter immediately started babbling and motioning around the flat. Sherlock’s eyes flicked to every object she pointed at and he began to smile. “Yes of course, I see.” He kissed her forehead and clutching her more tightly in his arms strode to his bedroom. Placing Rosie gently on his bed propped on his pillow he grabbed a small bag from his closet. 

“Sherlock what are you doing back there?” Mary called. He could hear her footsteps. 

“Not now, Watson and I are busy, right?” Rosie made a grunting noise and stuffed her fingers in her mouth while Sherlock dumped the contents of the bag on his bed.

“Okay then, we’ll just be waiting. Alright if I make a cuppa?” She asked through the door.

“Of course.” He took out the small dress he’d had made for Rosie at his tailor that was the same colour as his favourite purple shirt. He took her out of her ridiculous jumper and skirt, changed her nappy, and put her in her dress all without any fuss. He then put the small belstaff on her, also tailor made, black stockings, and black ballerina flats. He placed on her head a tiny deerstalker hat.

“Now you are properly ready to help me solve a case, Watson. What do you think?” He smiled down at her and she clapped her hands together with glee reaching her arms out for him to take her.

“Right shall we go over a file now?” She cooed at him and wrapped her wet fist in his curls once more as he took her back out into the living room. John’s eyes widened upon seeing his daughter which made Mary jump up from the couch before they even made it out of the hall.

“Sherlock, what is all this?” John asked as Mary made to inspect her daughters new clothes.

“I thought it was obvious. Watson, wanted something fitting to wear when helping with cases so I had something made for her.” Sherlock made his face unreadable while Rosie began pointing to the stack of files and babbling. 

“Are these miniature versions of your coat, hat, and shirt?” Mary asked feeling the fabrics and looking back and forth between Sherlock’s coat on the hook and the one on her daughter.

“Obvious, Mary.” Rosie grunted at her and pulled on Sherlock’s hair. She was getting impatient soon she’d have a tantrum.

“You can’t possibly be thinking of having our  _ daughter  _ help you on cases.” John narrowed his eyes and his hand began to make a fist and release over and over. He was getting angry and Sherlock saw no reason why.

“She already has helped on six.” Sherlock stated and moved to go sit down with Rosie at the stack of case files.

“What?!” John snapped at him, his face growing red. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Since birth, Watson, has helped solve six cases.” Sherlock said slowly and opened the top file. Rosie looked at it in awe stuffing a curl in her mouth.

“How, when, which ones?” John sputtered out. Mary stood in front of him.

“Husband, I think we need to talk in the  _ hall _ .” Mary said motioning for the door to the flat. John sighed angrily and stomped out of the room. Sherlock rolled his eyes and removed the top sheet on the case file.

“Right, what do we think of a decapitated nun?” He asked Rosie. She grunted and he smiled. “I agree boring.” They moved on to the next one while Mary and John tried to quietly have a domestic on the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John needs to get a damn grip. It's been a day and Sherlock is being sweet and Mini Watson is very intelligent.  
> Now I asked last time but received no response so I shall ask once more, I'm thinking about writing a companion piece to this from John's POV, what do you guys think? Seriously drop me a line!  
> I hope you all enjoy it and will join me again next time!   
> You guys are super awesome!  
> Toodles!  
> [Kudos <3]  
> [Comments]  
> &  
> [Bookmarks]  
> are very much appreciated!


	6. Sherlock Failed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Please don't throw rocks at me I know this is super late, I have been in and out of the hospital it has been nuts, I apologize. Thank you all, and I know I do this every time but hey you guys deserve it, so much for reading, for the Kudos, the bookmarks, and the comments! You guys are the best and I'm so glad you're enjoying it! We are still in the Six Thatchers I did my best with the show dialogue though some things did change. It's a long one. Now, once again, I hope you enjoy it, it is not beta-ed or Brit picked but if anyone would like to offer just drop a comment.
> 
> Also I have a twitter set up for this account now if you guys want updates on what may be taking me forever or just what I'm up to you can head there and check it out @hufflespuffles0

John hadn’t been letting Rosie spend much time with him since he found out about her helping on cases. Keeping him from her was slowly crumbling what was left of his heart into the pit in his stomach. He felt so connected to mini Watson. He felt like she was his in a small way and not being able to see her was driving him mad. John had started texting him that night though. At first he had been angry through the text’s then slowly he became, the only word Sherlock could put to it was,  _ flirty _ .

**The way that small curl in front falls across your forehead drives me mad. -JW**

**Shall I fix the way I style my hair as well as the way I help care for Watson? -SH**

**No, it drives me mad in a good way. ;) -JW**

**Alright. -SH**

Sherlock hadn’t known how else to respond. Was John drunk again? What was with his sudden interest? The texts had kept coming but Sherlock had ignored them in favor of his violin. He needed to think. 

 

\------

 

He was still not allowed to see Rosie but John had been coming over every day after texting him every night. John never mentioned the things he texted Sherlock and he wondered if it were Mary trying to trap him in some way. John was once again over and they were talking to a possible client. Sherlock just couldn’t seem to get his mind off of Rosie and wondering if she had discovered anything new today when he heard Lestrade and Hopkins speaking loudly on the landing. He quirked his eyebrow at the door then after sighing mentally he stalked to said door and opened it with a flourish glaring at the two.

“Will you two  _ please _ keep it down?” He growled at them before slamming the door in their faces.

“ _ Sorry… _ ” He heard them both say muffled through the door as he walked back to his chair passing by his client without so much as a look. He’d looked at the man enough already.

“Now, you haven’t always been in life insurance, have you? You started out in manual labour.” He stated sitting down and raising his hands for quiet when the client’s mouth suddenly gaped open. “Oh, don’t bother being astonished. Your right hand’s almost an entire size bigger than your left. Hard manual work does that.”

“I was a carpenter, uh, like me dad.” The man spoke softly astonished.

“And you’re trying to give up smoking, unsuccessfully, and you once had a Japanese girlfriend that meant a lot to you but now you feel indifferent about.” 

“How the hell ...?” The man asked smiling nervously and readjusting himself in the chair. He looks down to his shirt pocket and notes his stash of electronic devices before settling down and smiling at Sherlock. “Ah. E-cigarettes.” He patted the pocket.

“Not just that – ten individual e-cigarettes. Now, if you just wanted to smoke indoors, you would have invested in one of those irritating electronic pipe things, but you’re convinced you can give up, so you don’t want to buy a pipe because that means you’re not serious about quitting, so instead you buy individual cigarettes, always sure that each will be your last. Anything to add, John?” Sherlock glances at John’s chair before briefly being thrown into his mind palace by what he see’s there. 

**_“Brother mine,” Mycroft said gently leaning down and picking up the used needle and removing the already loosened makeshift tourniquet off of Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock smiled at him and brought a small piece of paper out of his trouser pocket placing it in what he thought was Mycroft's hand but what was really just open air. “What have you done?” He asked softly as he picked the paper up off the floor and read his eyebrows knitting together. “You took something without knowing what it was?” He asked angrily. Sherlock smiled and put his feet on the coffee table._ **

**_“It was a freeeeebie whyever not?” Sherlock quipped as Mrs. Hudson went about trying to straighten up and Lestrade stood there his face growing red._ **

**_“You know why not.” Mycroft sniped at him and Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed a cigarette and his lighter out from under the couch cushion._ **

**_“Nothing much matters right now, I can’t, honestly I can’t, feel a damned thing. It’s better than whatever Victor and I used to do together.” Sherlock glanced at the balloon that was being pulled out of one of John’s old jumpers he’d nicked before the fall. “Now Mrs. Hudson, you leave John alone this instant! He’s reading the paper can’t you see?” Sherlock chided as he motioned at the folded paper at the hem of balloon John’s jumper. Everyone in the room looked at him as if he were out of his mind. Maybe he was but he sorely missed John despite the drugs. Nothing helped except balloon John. Balloon John was a laugh riot. Sherlock’s mobile buzzed in his pocket and he jumped slightly._ **

**_“Mmm buzzing!” he said ripping it out of his pocket and pressing the button to answer. “What? Oh yes, of course I’m available. Come by when you’re able I shall see what I can do for you.” He turned off the call and dropped his phone on the cushion making to stand. “The game is on! I must prepare for the arrival of my client!” He shuffled off into his bedroom while the three other adults watched him shaking their heads._ **

“John?” Sherlock asks sounding almost choked as he stares at the balloon a sense of unreality settling over him at the impressed smile drawn on balloon John’s face. Sherlock swallowed audibly and he could feel the client’s eyes moving between him and the balloon. Just then John decided to pop his head out of the kitchen which made Sherlock jump a little.

“Er, yeah, yeah, listening.” He said with a smile on his face.

“What  _ is _ that?” Sherlock asked staring at the balloon John and hoping against hope that he was still in the dark about what had taken place after the wedding. John walked in and poked at the balloon.

“That is ... me. Well, it’s a me-substitute.” John said with a smile crossed his arms and leaned on his chair arm. Sherlock frowned making a note to ask more about this later then looked back at the client.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He tries to laugh it off but can’t help feeling awkward at the sudden intimacy in John’s gaze. “You know I value your little contributions.”

“Yeah? It’s been there since nine this morning.” Sherlock was once again taken aback but did his best not to let it show.

“Has it? Where were you?” He asked nonchalantly while fixing his shirt cuffs.

“Helping Mrs H with her Sudoku.” John said poking at the balloon again making it bob up and down almost like it was nodding.

“What about my girlfriend?” The client piped up forcing the attention on the room back to him. John chuckled at the look of annoyance on Sherlock’s face.

“What?” Sherlock asked not even bothering to look at him.

“You said I had an ex.” The man stated. Sherlock sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“You’ve got a Japanese tattoo in the crook of your elbow in the name ‘Akako.’ It’s obvious you’ve tried to have it removed.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the mans tattoo.

“But surely that means I wanna forget her, not that I’m indifferent.” He said softly trying to tug the sleeve of his shirt over it.

“If she’d really hurt your feelings, you would have had the word obliterated, but the first attempt wasn’t successful and you haven’t tried again, so it seems you can live with the slightly blurred memory of Akako, hence the indifference.” The man laughs and holds up his hands.

“Sorry. I-I thought you’d done something clever.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes and turned his head towards him. “No, no. Ah, but now you’ve explained it, it’s dead simple, innit?” Sherlock pulled in a deep breath and straightened up in his seat.

“I’ve withheld this information from you until now, Mr Kingsley, but I think it’s time you knew the truth.” Sherlock decided it was time for a bit of fun. This man was an utter idiot for coming here in the first place so why not?

“What d’you mean?” He asks edging forward a little.

“Have you ever wondered if your wife was a little bit out of your league?” Sherlock asked smiling wolfishly on the inside. 

“Well…” he started but Sherlock interrupted.

“You thought she was having an affair. I’m afraid it’s far worse than that. Your wife is a spy.” Inside Sherlock was laughing like a mad man.

“What?!” Mr. Kingsley sputtered.

“That’s right. Her real name is Greta Bengtsdotter. Swedish by birth and probably the most dangerous spy in the world. She’s been operating deep undercover for the past four years now as your wife for one reason only: to get near the American embassy which is across the road from your flat. Tomorrow the US president will be at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment inside her padded armpit. This drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new master, none other than James Moriarty.”

“What?!” The client was shrinking down in his chair now beginning to sweat.

“Moriarty will then use the president as a pawn to destabilise the United Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, tipping the balance in favour of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove unstoppable, thus precipitating… World. War. Three.” Sherlock is rolling on the floor of his mind palace laughing hysterically. 

“Are you serious?” John asks trying not to laugh. Sherlock stands and begins walking to the door.

“No, of course not. His wife left him because his breath stinks and he likes to wear her lingerie.” 

“I don’t!” The man shot out quickly. Sherlock turned his hand on the knob eyeing John’s face as he gave the client a look. “Just the bras…” Sherlock opened the door.

“Get out.” He said with finality Mr. Kingsley stood and left Sherlock closing the door back in the waiting inspectors faces.

“So. What’s this all about, then?” John asked quirking a brow at Sherlock.

“Having fun.” He said simply still laughing on the inside.

“Fun?”

“While I can.”

“Mm-hm.” John pokes at the balloon again and there’s a knock on the door Sherlock turns and looks as Hopkins enters.

“Uh, Sherlock…” She begins holding out a file.

“Borgia Pearl, boring, go.” He turns her round quickly and starts shoving her back out the door.

_ “ _ Uh, but, uh…”

“Go!” He demands. He is in no mood for something so trivial. He shuts the door after her only to have it imediatly ropened by Lestrade. Sherlock feels exasperated by his presence.

“Oh, this had better be good.” Sherlock narrows his eyes at him.

“Oh, I think you’ll like it.” Lestrade grins at him and pulls a plastic bag out of the paper bag he was holding. Sherlock stares at the remnants of a white plaster bust. He grabs the bag from Lestrade and begins examinging it every possibility running through his mind at lighling speed. He’s not paying attention to John and the Inspector. The loose thread he’s catching up to it.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased.” Lestrade asks pulling him back to the present.

“I  _ am _ pleased.” Sherlock is still examining the pieces of broken plaster. Somone was hoping it was hollow. He’s almost sure of it.

“You don’t  _ look _ pleased.” Lestrade says trying to pull the bag back from him.

“This is my game face. And the game is on.” He jerks the bag away from lestrade and heads towards his microsope.

 

\---- a bit later----

 

“Ooh.” Sherlock says staring at a small piece of plaster between his tweezers,

“What?” He hears John ask. He had been letting his response system go on auto pilot until this point not really paying attention. He places the sample under the microscope so he can get a better look.

“Blood. Quite a bit of it, too.” He looks up from his work to Lestrade.

“Was there any injury at the crime scene?”

“Nah.” He watches as Lestrade looks at his watch anxiously.

“Then our suspect must have cut themselves breaking the bust.” He places the bloody plaster into a small plastic bag with his tweezers.

“Come on.”

“Holborn?”Lestrade asks glancing at his watch again.

“Lambeth.” Sherlock grins looking back at his microscope.

“Lambeth? Why?” Lestrade sounded confused.

“To see Toby.” Sherlock stated.

“Ah, right.  _ Who _ ?” John asked confused as well.

“You’ll see.” He sent out a quick text to Mary ( **Busy? -SH** ) before pocketing his mobile again.

“Right. You coming?” John asked Lestrade.

“No. He’s got a lunch date with a tall, balding ginger, government official that he doesn’t want to be late for.” Sherlock says rolling his eye while going over to his coat. He can hear the sharp intake of breath from Lestrade.

“Who told you?” He nearly whispered.

“The right sleeve of your jacket… plus the smell of  _ his _ favorite sweets and his own cologne mixed with yours…” He lets a disgusted look fall over his face, for show, while John leans into smell Lestrade. “...and your  _ complete _ inability to stop looking at your watch. Have a good time.” He let a small smile tug at his lips while John wasn’t looking and watched as Lestrade grinned at him.

“I will.” They all start heading out the door as John once again decides to ask about Toby. Sherlock rolls his eyes and jerks his buzzing mobile out of his pocket.

 

\---a bit later---

 

“There’s a kid I know, hacker,  _ brilliant _ hacker, one of the world’s best. He got himself into serious trouble with the Americans a couple of years ago. He hacked into the Pentagon’s security system, and I managed to get him off the charge. Therefore he owes me a favour.” Sherlock tells John as they walk up to the door. He reaches out to the black door and knocks twice before stepping back toward John. The cab ride had been mostly silent with Sherlock looking up things on his mobile while John stared out the window.

“So, how does that help us?” John asked.

“What?” Sherlock responded back not understanding what had John flumoxed. 

“Toby the hacker.” Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes as he was bursting with excitement at who would be popping out with Toby in a few moments.

“Toby’s not the hacker.” He stated calmly picking at a bit of fluff on his coat sleeve.

“What?” John asked just as Craig opened the door. Sherlock gave him a rare and genuine smile.

“All right, Craig?”

“All right, Sherlock?” Craig replied back with his own smile. Sherlock looked down and he could feel his smile grow wider.

“Craig’s got a dog!” Toby, a bloodhound, wanders out to greet Sherlock.

“So I see.” John says softly. Sherlocks laughs happily as Toby comes to him.

“Good boy!” He then begins petting Toby and slips him a treat or two from his pocket.

“Hiya!” He hears Mary call and then hears the cooing calls of Watson trying to wiggle out of her grasp. Sherlock looks up at Watson and winks at her and she starts reaching for him while he continues petting Toby. Out of a need for self preservation he does not move toward the whimpering child currently dressed in her Sherlock like outfit.

“Mary, what are you?” He hears John start to ask as she and Rosie come up to them. “No, we-we agreed we would never bring Rosie out on a case.” Sherlock could feel his heart begin to crumble as he ran his fingers along Toby’s soft ears.

“No, exactly, so don’t wait up.” She hands Rosie over to John and winks at Sherlock mouthing at him to play along before turning back to John, “Hey, Sherlock.”

“Hey.” He says smoothly. Just what is she up to?

“But... Mary, what are you doing here?” John asked and Sherlock got an instant idea.

“She’s better at this than you.” He said quickly and pointedly.

“Better?” John asked staring at him.

“So I texted her.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and stood up holding Toby’s leash in his hands.

“Hang on. Mary’s better than me?” Sherlock sighed and ran a gloved hand through his hair.

“Well, she  _ is _ a retired super-agent with a terrifying skill set. Of  _ course _ she’s better.” He lied. Better at super-agent things yes better at helping Sherlock do Sherlock things... No.

“Yeah, okay.” John said slowly looking down at Rosie in her Sherlock get up.

“Nothing personal.” Sherlock muttered handing Toby’s lead to Mary.

“What, so I’m supposed to just go home now, am I?” John said looking between the two of them.

“Oh, what do you think, Sherlock? Shall we take him with us?” Mary asked Sherlock jokingly as they began walking out onto the street.

“John or the dog?” Sherlock asked playing along patting Toby’s head.

“Ha-ha, that’s funny.” John said walking up behind them.

“John.” She said to Sherlock winking at him.

“Well…” He began to put his fingers up to his chin.

“He’s handy and loyal.” She stated trying not to laugh.

“That’s hilarious.” John said angrily trying to move around infront of them.

“Mm.” Sherlock smiled and pulled softly at Rosies little hand.

“Is it too early for a divorce?” John asked jokingly. Mary pointed at herself and acted flabergasted.

“Aww!” She leaned over and kissed John softly. Sherlock felt the pit in his stomach begin to swirl like a black hole.

“Barnicot’s house, then. Anyone up for a trudge?” With that he successfully took Rosie from John and began racing after Toby. “Keep up. He’s fast.” He said as the dog began pulling Mary along.

 

\------

 

Sherlock woke slowly. Mary was in danger which meant John and Rosie’s future happiness was in danger. He hated he had to do this for them again but what else could he do. Someone else from AGRA was alive and he had to keep Mary safe. For John, for mini Watson. Mary made their lives perfect and he wasn’t going to come between that even with John sending him flirty text messages. He can’t ruin the life John built for himself. Not when he made them a vow. Not when he could keep them safe. Through his fog he had somehow made it to Mycroft’s office in the Diogenes Club. 

“Sherlock whatever is the matter?” Mycroft asked with a frown his feet resting atop his desk as Sherlock came stumbling in and took a seat.

“Mary drugged me but I don’t have time to go into that. What do you know of AGRA?” Mycroft’s frown deepened.

“Agra? A city on the banks of the river Yamuna in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, India. It is three hundred and seventy-eight kilometres west of the state capital, Lucknow…”

“What are you, Wikipedia?” Sherlock growled out.

“Yes.” Mycroft stated with a smile.

“AGRA is an acronym.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. Must his brother make him spell out the reason he came?

“Oh, good. I love an acronym. All the best secret societies have them.” Mycroft moved around a bit of paper on his desk.

“Team of agents, the best. But you know all that.”

“Of  _ course _ I do. Go on.”

“One of them, Ajay, is looking for Mary,  _ also _ one of the team.”

“Indeed? Well, that’s news to me.”

“ _ Is _ it?” Sherlock looked at him disbelivingly while Mycroft lowered his head and smiled at him as if he were stupid. “He’s already killed looking for that memory stick. AGRA always worked for the highest bidder. I thought that might include you.” Mycroft frowned at this.

“Me?”

“Well, I mean the British government or whatever government you’re currently propping up.” Sherlock replied exasperated.

“AGRA were very reliable; then came the Tbilisi incident. They were sent in to free the hostages but it all went horribly wrong. And that was that. We stopped using freelancers.” Mycroft said it all matter of factly.

“Your initiative?” Sherlock deduced.

“My initiative. Freelancers are too woolly; too messy. I don’t like loose ends – not on my watch.” Mycroft confirmed with a slight nod of his head. Sherlock leaned forward taking his brothers notepad and writing AMMO on it.

“There was something else; a detail, a code word.” Mycroft frowns down at it.

“AMMO?”

“It’s all I’ve got.” Sherlock stated leaning back in his chair trying to wake up his brain. It was time to be useful.

“Little enough.”

“Could you do some digging, as a favour?” He watched the smile curl on his brothers lips.

“You don’t have many favours left.” He said softly.

“Then I’m calling them all in.” Sherlock said flatly. Did Mycroft think this was game to him? This is real. He has to do this. For John. For mini Watson.

“And if you  _ can _ find who’s after her and neutralise them, what then? You think you can go on saving her forever?” Mycroft asked blandly. Sherlock vaugly heard his brothers mobile buzzing in his pocket.

“Of course.”

“Is that sentiment talking?” Mycroft sniped at him

“No. It’s  _ me _ .” Sherlock held his head high. He would not be dealing wih this again with Mycroft. He knew Sherlock was different. There was no point in teasing him about it now.

“Difficult to tell the difference these days.” He sneered.

“ _ Told _ you: I made a promise, a vow.” Mycroft took his feet off his desk and leaned forward clasping his hands together.

“All right. I’ll see what I can do. But remember this, brother mine: agents like Mary tend not to reach retirement age. They  _ get _ retired in a pretty permanent sort of way.” Mycroft warned his phone buzzing louder now that it was straining against his pocket.

“Not on my watch.” Sherlock said determined and stood, although on wobbly legs. He turned to go but before he did so smirked and turned his face towards his brother. “Tell Lestrade I say to leave you be at work you. It seems he doesn’t know how much you detest texting.” With that and a swirl of his coat he was out to see John. This wasn’t going to be easy.

 

\------

They had found Mary and Sherlock had nearly believed that all would return to nomal until one random thing Mary had said came to his mind. “You’d be amazed what a receptionist picks up. They know  _ everything _ .” The word everything bounced around his head like a rubber ball. Lady Smallwood’s receptionist… Vivian. He texted Mary,

**The curtain rises. The last act. It’s not over. -SH**

Then John.

**London Aquarium. Come immediately. -SH**

He then quickly made his way to the London Aquarium himself. He made it in just before closing and called Lestrade and Mycroft before he made it to where he dedced the receptionist would be. There was an announcement ove the speakers about the Aquarium getting ready to close. He ignores it his heart racing moving ever forward until he finds her sitting in front of the tank that looks in at the sharks.

“Your office said I’d find you here.” Sherlock said softly. The old woman didn’t startle she was obviously expecting him.

“This was always my favourite spot for agents to meet. We’re like them: ghostly, living in the shadows.” Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now was not the time. She turned and looked at him.

“Predatory.” He stated simply hands in his pockets. John and Mary should be here soon. She smirked and turned back to the sharks.

“Well, it depends which side you’re on. Also, we have to keep moving or  _ we _ die.”

“Nice location for the final act. Couldn’t have chosen it better myself. But then I never  _ could _ resist a touch of the dramatic.” Sherlock smiled a little and Vivian shrugged her shoulders standing up and moving toward the tank her handbag dangling from the crook of her elbow.

“I just come here to look at the fish.I knew this would happen one day. It’s like that old story.” She turned to face him the sharks at her back.

“I really am a very busy man. Would you mind cutting to the chase?” This time he did roll his eyes. Why did people have to boring in the end?

“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She asked raising her brow at him.

“With good reason.” 

“There was once a merchant in a famous market in Baghdad.” She began her story and Sherlock began to throw a tantrum in his mind palace while closing his eyes and lowering his head toward the floor.

“I really have never liked this story.” He muttered.

“I’m just like the merchant in the story. I thought I could outrun the inevitable. I’ve always been looking over my shoulder; always expecting to see the grim figure of…”

“Death.” Mary interupted as she came in the room standing afew feet from Sherlock. Sherlock felt himself smile not even bothering to look up.

“Hello, Mary.”

“Hey.”

“John?” What was left of his heart squeezing out rapid beats.

“On his way.”

“Let me introduce Amo.” Sherlock motioned slightly to the old woman bringing his head up.

“ _ You _ were Amo?You were the person on the phone that time?”

“Using AGRA as her private assassination unit.”

“Why did you betray us?”

“Why does anyone do anything?” Vivian sniped back at her.

“Oh, let me guess. Selling secrets?” Sherlock had already figured this out he just needed the confession for Mary’s sake.

“Well, it would be churlish to refuse. Worked very well for a few years. I bought a nice cottage in Cornwall on the back of it. But the ambassador in Tbilisi found out. I thought I’d had it. Then she was taken hostage in that coup. I couldn’t believe my luck! That bought me a little time.” She chuckled and stared at Mary.

“But then you found out your boss had sent AGRA in.” Sherlock stated.

“Very handy. They were always such reliable killers.” Vivian stared hard at Mary.

“What you didn’t know, Mary, was that this one also tipped off the hostage-takers.” Vivian sat down and placed her handbag on her lap.

“Lady Smallwood gave the order, but I sent another one to the terrorists with a nice little clue about her code name should anyone have an enquiring mind. Seemed to do the trick.”

“And you thought your troubles were over.” Mary spat at her. Sighing Vivian began and a knot formed in the pit in Sherlock’s stomach. Something was off.

“I was tired; tired of the mess of it all. I just wanted some peace, some clarity. The hostages were killed, AGRA too… or so I thought. My secret was safe. But apparently not. Just a little peace. That’s all  _ you _ wanted too, wasn’t it? A family, home. Really, I understand.” Sherlock’s eyes are glued on Vivian. Something’s not right. “So just let me get out of here, right? Let me just walk away. I’ll vanish. I’ll go forever. What d’you say?”

“After what you did?!” Mary bellowed starting towards her. Sherlock started after her he couldn’t let her do this. 

“Mary, no!” Vivian pulls a pistol from her bag and points it squarely at Mary who stops instantly and moves back to Sherlock.

“Okay.” Mary said softly. Sherlock’s heart was pounding. How does he get her out of this? How? Vivian stops pointing her pistol at Mary and just stares down at it.

“I was never a field agent. I always thought I’d be rather good.” Mary scoffed at the old woman.

“Well, you handled the operation in Tbilisi very well.” Sherlock complimented her. He had to get them out, but he couldn’t help it. He could feel his sarcasam bubbling to the surface.

“Thanks.”

“...for a secretary.” He said softly the corner of his mouth pulling up.

“What?” Vivian asked him her eyebrows knitting together.

“Can’t have been easy all those years, sitting in the back keeping your mouth shut when you knew you were cleverer than most of the people in the room.” He complimented her again.

“I didn’t do this out of jealousy!” She didn’t take it that way.

“No? Same old drudge, day in, day out, never getting out there where all the excitement was. Just back to your little flat on Wigmore Street.” Vivian gapes at him. “They’ve taken up the pavement outside the Post Office there. The local clay on your shoes is very distinctive. Yes, your  _ little _ flat.”

“How do you know?” She scowls at him.

“Well, on your salary it would have to be modest and you spent all the money on that cottage, didn’t you, and what are you, widowed or divorced? Wedding ring’s at least thirty years old and you’ve moved it to another finger. That means you’re sentimentally attached to it but you’re not still married. I favour widowed, given the number of cats you share your life with.” He couldn’t help it… He just couldn’t stop.

“Sherlock…” Mary said nervously by his side.

“Two Burmese and a tortoiseshell, judging by the cat hairs on your cardigan. A divorcee’s more likely to look for a new partner; a widow to fill the void left by her dead husband.”

“Sherlock, don’t.” Mary was pleading with him. In his mind palace John was pleading with him as well. Nothing was stopping him.

“Pets do that, or so I’m told, and there’s clearly no-one new in your life, otherwise you wouldn’t be spending your Friday nights in an aquarium. That probably accounts for the drink problem, too: the slight tremor in your hand… the red wine stain ghosting your top lip. So  _ yes _ . I say jealousy  _ was _ your motive after all – to prove how good you are... to make up for the inadequacies of your  _ little _ life.” Vivian gapes as Mycroft comes in quickly followed by Lestrade and three police officers.

“Well, Mrs Norbury. I must admit this is unexpected.” Mycroft said smootly looking down his nose at the older woman.

“Vivian Norbury, who outsmarted them all. All except Sherlock Holmes.” He allowed his voice to ooze sarcasm before continuing softly holding out his hand as he moved toward her. “There’s no way out.”

“So it would seem.You’ve seen right through me, Mr Holmes.” She smiled at him. Sherlock didn’t like that. He could hear the others moving behind him.

“It’s what I do” She tilted her head to the side.

“Maybe I  _ can _ still surprise you.” She brought the gun up aiming it at Sherlock. He felt the pit in his stomach stop swiriling. This was it. The end. For John.

“Come on. Be sensible.” He heard Lestrade say. Sherlock holds his hands out to the side. Vivian shook her head at them.

“No, I don’t think so.” She pulls the trigger and Sherlock prepares himself for the shot. Everything moves quickly he doesn’t go into his mind palace there’s no point. He’s not surviving this one.

“John.” he whispers. He hears Mary cry out and opens his eyes. Blood is all over her she’s fallen against a bench on the floor.

“Surprise.” He heard Vivian say. Mary is gasping in pain. Sherlock feels himself go into shock. What has she done? Mary has ruined everything! He drops to his knees and puts pressure against the wound she stares up at him her eyes blown wide and she whimpers at him.

“Everything’s fine. It’s gonna be okay.” He lies and looks back at Mycroft. “Get an ambulance.” Sherlock hears familiar feet run in. “It’s all right, it’s all right.” He says to Mary.

“ _ Mary! _ ” He hears John’s strangled call right before he drops to his own knees beside them.

“John!” She gasps out. Sherlock stands and moves away watching John jam his hand against his wifes wound while holding her head in his other hand.

“Mary? Mary?” He’s nearly hysteric. Sherlock messed up he broke his vow. John can’t forgive him now. “Stay with me. Stay with me.”

“Oh, come on.” Mary grunts out rolling her eyes.

“No, don’t worry. Don’t worry.” John says trying to keep her stable.

“Oh, come on, Doctor, you can do better than that.” She mock’s him. She’s dying and she mock’s him. She’s sobbing.

“Come on, Mary. Mary, come on.” John is insistant that she not give up.

“God, John, I think this is it.”

“No-no-no-no, it’s not.”

“You made me so happy.” He forces a smile while she speaks. “You gave me everything I could ever, ever…”

“Shh-shh.”

“Want.” She managed

“Mary, Mary…” He runs his free hand over her face. 

“Look after Rosie.” She cry’s. “Promise me.” 

“I promise.” Sherlock wants to promise too but he knows he souldn’t get involved he almost turns away when he hears her call his name.

“Hey, Sherlock.” Sherlock’s eyes go wide at being adressed.

“Yes?”

“I... so like you. Did I ever say?” Sherlock smiled at her and felt the tears begin to come. He shouldn’t cry. Not for Mary. He was supposed to protect her though. He failed her.

“Yes. Yes, y-you did.” He pressed his lips together and tried to hold everything backvhis crumbling heart fighting to crumble more.

“I’m sorry ... for shooting you that time. I’m really sorry.” He tried to force a smile that time but it wouldn’t come.

“It’s-it’s all right.” He managed.

“I think we’re even now, okay?” Sherlock nodded.

“Okay.” She let out a painful yelping noise.

_ “ _ Mary. Mary.”

“I think we’re even; definitely ev... even. You... You were my whole world. Being Mary Watson… was the only life worth living.” John was fighting back his emotions. Fighting hard to be strong for Mary but the tears were still pouring.

“Mary.”

“Thank you.” With that last utterance Mary died. Her body became limp and John… a widower.

“Mary.” He heard John whisper shakily. John becomes a rage and sorrow filled beast… He lets out noises Sherlock had never heard another human make. He moved to comfort John but John stared at him with eyes dancing with thoughts of murderous revenge breathing heavily.

“Don’t you dare.” He let out between clenched teeth taking in several harsh breaths. “You made a vow. You  _ swore _ it.” He spat savagely at Sherlock.Sherlock moved back into the space of the Detective inspector and his brother. John turned back to Mary and said her name softly and slowly over and over. All Sherlock heard was, “ I failed, I failed,  _ I failed… _ ” echoing in a continuous loop through the halls of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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